


Let in the Light

by enigmaticblue



Series: It's a Wonderful Life [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to my story Dimming of the Day, but you don’t necessarily need to read that one to get this one. Spike is in L.A. after the events of Destiny in Ats S5, trying to decide whether or not to go back to Buffy. His questions are answered by an unlikely source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let in the Light

_“Darling I'm lost/Adrift in the dark/I'm clutching your words/To my vampire heart once more/So let in the light/Turn me to dust/If it don't end in bloodshed, dear/It's probably not love./Here we are/In the darkest place/My reflection/Shows only your face…And the people in our lives/We all leave behind…Here we are/In the darkest place/To keep from forgetting/I picture your face/And I wonder/While we count the cost/Which is sweeter/Love or its loss/So I curse you/My vampire heart/For letting me love you/From the start._ ” ~Tom McRae, “My Vampire Heart”

 

**Part I: Remembering**

 

_“Spike, don’t do this.”_

_“If I don’t, more are gonna die, luv. Now go on, get out of here.”_

_“I won’t leave you!”_

_“Don’t do this, Buffy.” He could see the anguish in her eyes. She didn’t want him to go, even after everything that had happened, even after it had all gone to hell. She blamed herself for it, too, but it was as much his fault as hers._

_Her hand found his, and she interlaced her fingers as flames sprung up between their joined hands. Spike could feel her in a way he’d never experienced before._

_“I love you.”_

_She said the words out of desperation, he knew—a last ditch effort to save him. He knew she meant them, even though this was the first time they had passed her lips, but he didn’t dare acknowledge it. If he did, she’d never let him finish what he’d started._

_And Spike had never been a quitter._

_“No, you don’t, but thanks anyway. Now go, Buffy!”_

_She left him then, his soul blazing, burning him up from the inside out. It was both bloody painful and glorious, all at the same time. He could feel it—for the first time, he could feel his soul, and he knew he’d changed._

_Everything had changed; Spike just couldn’t have said when._

 

~~~~~

 

Spike awoke with a start, passing a hand over his face as he realized that he was still in his rented room in the flophouse he’d found. It wasn’t exactly savory, but then he didn’t have to worry about being accosted by man or demon these days. All he needed was a little time, a little space to clear his head.

 

It wasn’t like he’d ever believed Angel before, so he didn’t see why he needed to start listening to him now.

 

Still, the words Angel had spat at him during their battle echoed in his ears: _“No, you’re less. That’s why Buffy never really loved you. Because you’re not me.”_

 

Less than—that was why he’d left Sunnydale to get his soul in the first place. Riley had come back into town, and he hadn’t looked good in comparison. Granted, he _had_ been babysitting the demon eggs, but they weren’t nearly as dangerous as Captain Cardboard had made them out to be. Spike had never expected her to break things off, even though she’d been angry, not after how things had been going up to that point.

 

Closing his eyes, Spike remembered the expression on her face when she’d told him it was over.

 

_“You what?”_

_“I can’t do this, Spike. I can’t believe I thought it was going to work with another vampire.”_

_He could feel the anger rising. First, Buffy had helped the soldier destroy his home without even making sure that the demon offspring were dangerous, and now she was comparing him to Angel? “You actually bought that git’s story?”_

_“Riley wouldn’t lie to me,” Buffy said stolidly. “He said those eggs were dangerous. I saw the grownup demon; I believe him.”_

_“Looks can be deceiving,” Spike snapped. “Besides, you’d be pissed off if you had a bunch of soldiers hunting you down, too. The eggs—”_

_“Don’t.” Buffy looked infinitely tired. “I’m sure you thought you were doing the right thing, Spike, but you put Dawn’s life in danger by keeping those here.”_

_Spike could taste his rage. “You think I’d let her get hurt?” he demanded. “I think you’re forgetting what I spent last summer doing.”_

_“I think that you made a bad call this time, and the next one might get someone killed,” Buffy continued, as though she hadn’t heard him._

_She probably hadn’t, not really. She might have been listening, but she wasn’t hearing him. “Like you haven’t made bad calls, an’ I seem to recall you walking in on one of Captain Cardboard’s spectacular cock-ups.”_

_“That’s different.”_

_“Why? Because I don’t have a soul?”_

_“That’s one reason.”_

_“And the other?”_

_“I can’t be with someone I can’t trust.”_

_“Funny, but you trusted me with your sister.”_

_“And clearly I was wrong.”_

 

After that—well, things had pretty much gone to hell. He’d left town to get his soul, thinking that such a gesture would finally make Buffy understand the lengths he’d go for her. He thought that with the soul, he’d finally know what lines shouldn’t be crossed.

 

Instead, when he’d returned, both Buffy and Dawn had been pissed at him for leaving without a word. By the time Buffy had finally warmed up to him, he’d been fully under the influence of the First Evil, and it just got worse from there.

 

And then he’d died to save the world, and she’d finally said the words he’d longed to hear, but somehow, they’d rung hollow.

 

Spike knew that he should head to Rome, that he should find Buffy, wherever she might be, but something was holding him back.

 

Groaning, he rose from the ratty bedspread, deciding that one way or another this would be the last night he spent in this hole. Spike would make a decision and stick with it.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy hadn’t been able to sleep. The fall days were growing cooler, particularly once the sun went down, although the climate wasn’t that much different than southern California. Leaning against the railing on her balcony, she looked out over the city, the lights shining brightly against the velvety darkness.

 

She missed Spike—a lot, particularly in moments such as this one. If she closed her eyes and thought about it, Buffy could almost feel his arms around her, could hear him whispering in her ear.

 

In the months that had passed since his death, Buffy hadn’t been able to stop her self-recrimination. If only she hadn’t broken up with him when she had, if only she hadn’t wasted so much time. At night, when she closed her eyes, all she could think about were missed opportunities.

 

When she’d touched him while he wore the amulet, while cleansing light was pouring out of him, she had touched his soul, and she had known: he had always loved her, she had always been able to trust him. She’d just been too afraid to risk it.

 

“Not sleeping, huh?”

 

Buffy turned to see her sister slipping out the door to the balcony. “No. You, too?”

 

“Yeah. You missing Spike?”

 

“I should have trusted him.” Buffy knew that Dawn would understand what she was talking about; they had discussed the events of the last year a number of times since Sunnydale had disappeared, including what had precipitated Spike’s hunt for his soul. “I knew how good things could be, and I let it go.”

 

Dawn was quick to absolve her sister. “You couldn’t know, Buffy. He had the eggs like Riley said, so you couldn’t know that he wasn’t the Doctor.”

 

“No, I knew. Deep down, I knew.” Buffy closed her eyes tightly, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. “I’d seen the future, and I knew.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

This was the only thing that Buffy hadn’t told her sister; she’d never told Dawn about Casamir and the possible futures he’d shown her. In a way, Buffy had been afraid to do so, because she thought that Dawn might blame her for Spike leaving.

 

“Do you remember just before I started dating Spike, when I was gone for a day?” Buffy asked.

 

The younger girl frowned. “Yeah. You never really said why.”

 

Slowly, haltingly, Buffy explained what she’d seen, although she fudged the details on the first two. It had been scary enough for her, and she still had a need to protect Dawn.

 

“So, you really did know.”

 

“Not about the eggs,” Buffy said defensively. “If I had—”

 

“I know.”

 

They were quiet for a long period of time. “I say we blame Riley,” Dawn finally said. “I mean, he had to know that Spike wasn’t really the Doctor, right? There’s no way that he was an international arms dealer.”

 

“Yeah.” Buffy glanced over at her. “I loved him.”

 

“I know.”

 

“He said I didn’t.”

 

“You know that he can be really stupid.”

 

“He really can.”

 

“You still love him.”

 

Buffy sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

 

She just wished that Spike had known that before he died.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike had thought about stealing one of Angel’s cars, but had decided against it just in case he decided to go to Italy. After all, he couldn’t take the car with him.

 

He walked out of the flophouse, down the street, past dilapidated buildings and rundown stores, none of which held his interest. Loneliness sat heavily on his shoulders; Spike remembered the way that Angel’s friends had welcomed the older vampire back, whereas they looked at him with suspicion.

 

Spike still had no idea why everybody seemed to think that Angel’s soul was somehow better than his. Not only was his anchored, but he’d asked for it, suffered for it. Angel had just whinged about it for a hundred years. If Angel was right, and Buffy thought the same, if she’d rethought her words on the Hellmouth…

 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered, still undecided. “Wish I knew…”

 

He trailed off, but apparently someone had heard him. “What is it that you wish?”

 

Spike whirled to see an elderly man looking at him. He smelled like a human, but Spike wasn’t willing to take anyone or anything at face value these days. “Who are you?”

 

“A friend. My name is Casamir.”

 

His eyes narrowed. “You.”

 

“I see you’ve heard of me.”

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah, from Buffy. Thanks, but no thanks.”

 

“Do you really not have any questions?”

 

Casamir’s gentle voice stopped him. As much as Spike wanted to make up his own mind, he had a few questions that he’d like to have answered, too. “Yeah, I’ve got questions. Don’t know that your answers helped the Slayer all that much, though.”

 

The man’s gentle smile was also a rebuke. “I can only offer a vision of what might be, or what might have been. What a person does with that information is up to them.”

 

“Right.” Spike still hesitated. It wasn’t precisely fear that held him back; he just wasn’t sure he wanted help making this choice. He’d sworn that he was going to be his own man.

 

As though reading his mind, Casamir shook his head. “Do you not think that more information would help you make the best decision?”

 

Spike snorted and looked away, torn. Did he dare to ask the questions? He’d never been a coward, and now he hesitated. “Yeah, alright.” Casamir led the way into a small shop that Spike hadn’t noticed as he passed. The lettering on the front was too faded to be read easily. “Looks like you’ve fallen on hard times,” he observed.

 

Casamir didn’t turn around as he busied himself with an electric kettle. “I go where I’m needed, whatever the scenery.”

 

Spike wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that; it made him feel as though he was being watched, as though Casamir had seen the last year of his life. “And you were needed here?”

 

“You needed direction, yes? And I can give you an answer to three questions.”

 

“Don’t know that I need the answer to more than one,” Spike replied, a challenge in his voice.

 

Casamir glanced at him over his shoulder. “If that is true, and there is only one answer that you need, perhaps there are others you might want.”

 

Spike took a seat in the padded chair at the table, having already decided to give it a try. He wouldn’t have followed the old man inside the shop otherwise. Casamir was right about that much; he could use a little more information—info he couldn’t get any other way.

 

“Yeah, suppose I could think of a couple more questions.” Spike leaned back in his seat. “So, how are we doing this?”

 

Casamir took the seat across from him, placing a steaming mug on the table. “Didn’t Buffy tell you about her experience?”

 

He shrugged. “A bit. Doesn’t tell me what we’re going to be doing.”

 

“Eat first,” Casamir suggested. “This may take some time.”

 

Spike realized that the mug held blood, not the tea he’d been expecting. “Uh, thanks.”

 

“It is my pleasure. You have a journey ahead of you.”

 

He felt a tremor of fear, something he hadn’t experienced for a very long time; the sensation was unwelcome. “I haven’t decided where I’m going yet.”

 

“I wasn’t talking about overseas travel,” Casamir corrected gently. He pushed three strips of paper much the same size as fortunes from the cookies so prevalent in Chinatown. “Write down the questions you’d like to ask.”

 

Spike hesitated before taking the pen Casamir held out. He had no idea what the results would be, but he remembered how drained Buffy had been, and how she’d changed—at least for a time.

 

“Yeah, alright,” he said hoarsely, beginning to write. When he was finished, he picked up his mug and drained it. “Now what?”

 

“I’ll get the necessary supplies,” the man replied.

 

Spike gave brief thought to leaving, but rejected it and settled back in his chair. He was committed now; might as well go through with it. Casamir came back to the table, setting a small brazier in the center. Spike watched as he carefully lit the small fire, the aromatic smoke almost instantly filling the air.

 

“Place your first question in the fire and breathe deeply,” Casamir directed.

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “You sure this is going to work on me? I am a vampire.”

 

“I know my business, William Pratt,” Casamir replied, his voice showing the first hint of impatience. “If you are not afraid of the answers, place your first question in the fire.”

 

Spike lifted his chin defiantly at the suggestion that he might be afraid and put the first slip of paper in the flames, then took a deep breath.

 

_“What if I’d never gone to Sunnydale?”_

 

**Part II: The Only Constant**

 

He found himself in an unfamiliar bar, the weight of grief pressing down on him heavily. Spike had known grief before, when Buffy had died, but this was different. This felt as though a piece of himself was missing.

 

Spike knew that Drusilla was dust, and he understood finally what Buffy had meant by saying that she’d felt like two people at once. He remembered what it was to be in Los Angeles, missing Buffy—but right now, right here, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Drusilla was gone, and he hadn’t yet managed to drown his sorrows sufficiently.

 

“You want some company?”

 

The thin woman who slid into the booth across from him was wearing a skimpy dress and so much makeup, he was fairly sure she’d used a trowel. On another evening, Spike might have taken her up on the comfort she was offering, but he’d tried that.

 

Even sinking his teeth into a woman’s jugular while she was in the throes of passion wasn’t enough to wipe away his grief; all he could think about was how she wasn’t Dru.

 

“Get lost,” he advised.

 

She pouted. “You’re looking lonely over here.”

 

“I said get lost,” he growled, flashing a little fang.

 

Instead of running away, scared, she leaned forward, and Spike could smell her arousal. “I like my men with sharp teeth.”

 

Spike had never been a fan of vampire groupies; in his experience, they were nothing more than a pain in the arse.

 

“And I like my women without a pulse.” He rose, realizing that he wasn’t going to get any peace if he stayed. Spike had stayed on top of his tab, so there was nothing that would prevent him from leaving.

 

Unless, of course, you counted the woman.

 

“Oh, come on, baby. Don’t be like that.” She grabbed the lapel of his coat as he tried to pass her. “I could show you a real good time.”

 

“Sod off,” Spike snarled, throwing her hand off and pushing her away, sending her sprawling on the floor.

 

“Hey!” A rather large vampire in biker leathers rose from his table. “Don’t be treating her that way.”

 

He delivered his best sneer. “What? She your pet? I can see why you’d need to pay a human for sex.”

 

Spike knew he was throwing the gauntlet down, but if he couldn’t drink in peace, a good brawl was the next best thing.

 

He got what he wanted.

 

Although not all the bar’s patrons jumped into the fight, there were quite a few—more than he could probably legitimately handle. Spike had never claimed not to employ dirty tactics, however, and a chair leg made a damn good stake.

 

He probably wouldn’t have survived, but the demons and vampires in the bar weren’t all focused on him, and they started to fight—and kill—one another.

 

In the midst of it all, when Spike knew he would either have to leave or be killed, he ducked out a side door. He wasn’t quite ready to end it all. Not yet.

 

Wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, Spike felt his jaw for any breaks. “Guess I’ll live another day,” he muttered, shoving his bruised hands into the pockets of his duster. As he wandered down the street with no particular destination in mind, he wondered once again if he might have saved Drusilla. Maybe deciding against going to the Hellmouth had been a mistake, but taking her where both a Slayer and Angel were had seemed like a bad idea.

 

As he passed a diner, several blocks over, Spike’s eye was caught. He paused, seeing a girl waiting tables. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes were weary. One of the patrons grabbed her arse as she passed his table, but she didn’t even appear to register the contact.

 

He could just make out the voice of one of the men. “Come on, sweet thing. You just need some loosening up.”

 

The girl ignored him, putting a couple of ceramic mugs in front of a young couple at a nearby table, then depositing a carafe of what Spike could only assume was coffee. “Thanks,” the young man said, digging around in his pocket and dumping a handful of change on the table.

 

The waitress spared a smile for him and his date, but it fled her face as soon as she turned back towards the kitchen. Normally, even a face as pretty as hers wouldn’t have turned his head, but there was something there—

 

Making an impulsive decision, he entered the diner, sliding into a booth. After a few minutes, the waitress came to stand by his table, her nametag reading “Anne.”

 

“Do you know what you want?” she asked in a dull tone.

 

“Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.” Spike tried using his most charming tone, but she didn’t even glance up from her pad.

 

She tucked her pen and order pad back in her apron pocket. “It’ll be right out.”

 

Spike drummed his fingers on the table, then pulled out his cigarettes and lighter. He’d just lit one up when Anne came out and set a mug on the table in front of him. Glancing up, he caught her eyes for the first time, and he felt a shock go through his system as he realized that he was looking at the Slayer.

 

She seemed to recognize what he was for the first time as well, because she leaned in close and hissed, “Look, I have a live and let live policy. If you don’t cause any trouble, you don’t get staked. Is that clear?”

 

“Crystal.”

 

Spike took a drag off of his cigarette and watched her hurry away, a slow smirk forming. The girl had fire, and it occurred to him that he might have found a new purpose in life.

 

Hunting a Slayer had just become a little more interesting.

 

~~~~~

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

The irritation in her voice was payment enough for his trouble. “Wanted a cup of coffee,” Spike replied with a smile. “Bring it quick, and maybe you’ll get a tip.”

 

Her glare was hot enough to start a fire, but Spike just leaned back and raised an eyebrow, as though daring her to make a fuss. With a huff and a flounce, she walked away from his table, to return shortly with a mug and a carafe. “Here.”

 

Spike knew what she was doing—by leaving the carafe on his table, she could get out of serving him again, and he’d wind up paying more. “And a piece of pie,” he said.

 

She stared at him for a moment, then hissed, “Vampires don’t eat people food.”

 

“This vampire does.”

 

They engaged in a staring contest, with Anne as the loser. “Fine. Peach or cherry?”

 

He leered. “Cherry.”

 

Her nostrils flared, and she said in a very tight voice, “I’ll be right back.”

 

When she put the plate in front of him, he said quietly, “Thank you.”

 

Anne froze, then replied—her voice marginally warmer, “You’re welcome.”

 

Spike couldn’t have explained why, but when the diner closed that night, he left two twenty-dollar bills behind.

 

~~~~~

 

He knew he was being followed by the Slayer; although she was attempting stealth, Spike had been in this game a lot longer than she had, and he had caught sight of her a time or two. Although Spike had been tempted to confront her, he’d decided against it, wanting to know what she was going to do.

 

The third night after he’d noticed her presence, she finally confronted him. “Who have you been feeding off of?”

 

Spike leaned up against the building he’d been walking next to. “What now?”

 

“You’re a vampire,” she replied. Out of her work uniform, she wore jeans with holes in the knees and a threadbare t-shirt. It wasn’t quite what Spike had expected, but it’s not like he knew the girl.

 

Granted, what she’d like to be, and what she could afford to be, were probably two completely different things.

 

“Yeah, I think we already covered that,” Spike said slowly, waiting for her to continue.

 

“You haven’t killed anybody in the last three days.”

 

“Might have done it while you weren’t looking.”

 

“No, you didn’t. I would know.”

 

“Would you really?”

 

“Stop it!” Anne glared at him. “What the hell do you want?”

 

“Who said I wanted anything?” Spike crossed his arms across his chest. “Maybe I’m just trying to live my life.”

 

“You’re not alive. You’re a fucking vampire.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “Temper, temper.”

 

“Gah!”

 

It was a sound of pure frustration, and hearing it made Spike back off—just a little. “I’ve got better things to do than killing people,” he said, adding silently, “Especially when there’s a Slayer following me everywhere.”

 

“Do you have a soul or something?” Anne asked, her voice uncertain.

 

Spike’s eyes widened. “What? No! What the hell gave you that idea?”

 

“I knew…” Anne trailed off. “Never mind. Look, just leave me alone, okay? I’m—there are things I’m trying to forget, and you’re not helping.”

 

“Who said I wanted to help you?”

 

“Just—leave me alone.”

 

As she walked away, Spike suddenly had a sinking feeling. “What you’re trying to forget? Wouldn’t be somebody named Angelus, would it?”

 

She stopped, her back going stiff and straight. “What?”

 

“It was him, wasn’t it? The bastard got to you.”

 

Angelus had been his mentor, but the older vampire had also made it clear that he had and always would come first in Drusilla’s affections. Besides, Angelus was the only vampire he knew of with a soul, and the fact that she’d asked if he had one told Spike that she’d known of Angelus.

 

And something in her eyes told Spike it was more than just knowing about him.

 

“What do you know about Angelus?”

 

Something told Spike that it was probably not in his best interests to reveal all. “I know he was a right bastard without his soul, and not much better with it.”

 

She whirled to face him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! Angel was—”

 

When she stopped, Spike took a step towards her. “Is that what he’s calling himself now?”

 

“It’s what he _was_ calling himself,” she said in a low voice.

 

There was sorrow in her eyes and voice, and Spike felt a pang himself. He’d heard through the grapevine that Darla was no more, and now this confirmation of Angelus’ passing told him that he was the last of the Scourge.

 

“Who killed him?” he asked.

 

“I did.” The girl’s chin tilted up defiantly. “It was the only way to save the world.”

 

“That right?”

 

“He was going to send the whole world to hell.”

 

“And he would have killed you if he had a chance.”

 

Anne’s eyes dropped to the ground, then she looked up. “Yeah, he would have.” Her eyes bored into his. “How did you know him?”

 

“We were family—of a sort.” He dared her to attack him with his eyes. “He made my sire.”

 

“What happened—” Anne stopped. “Never mind.”

 

“She got sick and died,” Spike replied, answering the question she’d stopped herself from asking.

 

“How long ago?”

 

He thought that there might be sympathy in her gaze. “About six months.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Spike thought she meant it. “What about you? How long ago?”

 

“A year.”

 

There was a moment when their eyes met, and Spike thought that a connection was made, and he wondered at it. “Not long enough to ease the grief, yeah?”

 

“No, it’s not.” She sighed. “Look, I’m not really a Slayer anymore. If you don’t—”

 

“I’m not interested in killing anybody,” Spike said. He hadn’t realized how true that was until the words left his mouth. He had no desire to spill more blood, not when he knew that killing someone would end up with the Slayer staking him.

 

Since he didn’t want to kill her, that wasn’t something he wanted to risk.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Don’t much fancy a fight to the death, pet.”

 

“And again I say, why not?”

 

“Because I don’t want to have to kill you.”

 

“What makes you think it wouldn’t be the other way around?”

 

“Not to brag, luv, but—” He smirked. “Hell, what am I saying? I love to brag. You wouldn’t be able to kill me. I’ve come out on top my fair share of times.”

 

Anne crossed her arms across her chest, which just emphasized her breasts, in his personal opinion. “And I haven’t?”

 

“Don’t know what you’ve done. It’s not like you’ve sent in a CV.”

 

“A what?”

 

“Think you call it a résumé.”

 

“I killed Angelus, I think that qualifies.”

 

“Yeah, suppose it does.”

 

They were in a standoff now, and Spike wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but he knew that she wasn’t going to make the first move. Her scars might be older, but he sensed that they were hardly healed. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he finally asked.

 

“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

 

Spike smiled, thinking that it was strange, but _hunting_ a Slayer was no longer his first priority.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy picked up the phone absently. “Yeah?”

 

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

 

She recognized her sister’s voice immediately. “I’m not interested, Dawn.”

 

“Come on, Buffy. It’s time to get back on the horse.”

 

“I’m not ready.”

 

“But—”

 

“And I’m really not interested.” Buffy made sure her voice was as firm as she could make it. “I’m serious, Dawn.”

 

“Come on, Buffy. You know you’re going to have to get back out there sometime.”

 

“Maybe, but I think I’m the only one qualified to make that decision,” Buffy shot back. “I’m serious. I’ll get back in there when I’m ready.”

 

Her sister sighed. “Fine.”

 

“When are you going to be home?”

 

“Late,” Dawn replied. “I’ve got a date with Daniel tonight. It was his brother I wanted you to meet.”

 

“Thanks for the thought, but I’ve got some stuff to do for Giles.” Buffy was lying through her teeth, but she was hoping that Dawn wouldn’t call her on it.

 

Thankfully, Dawn seemed to be willing to take her words at face value. “Okay, well, have fun.”

 

Buffy hung up the phone, wondering when her sister had developed a richer social life than she had—not that she was sorry to see it. Dawn finally seemed to be settling in, and to be happy with her life. It was something she was grateful for.

 

If Spike were here, if he could see them, what would he think? Buffy wondered. Would he insist that she get back out there, would he be angry or impatient with her grief? Buffy thought that perhaps he would understand, maybe better than anyone.

 

Spike understood grief.

 

~~~~~

 

“Even if I’d never gone to Sunnydale…” Spike said quietly, staring at Casamir through the smoke. “Buffy—”

 

“I think she preferred Anne in that incarnation.”

 

“It was her middle name,” Spike said softly.

 

“You love her.”

 

“Always.” Spike stared into the dying coals as though they would explain it all. “Love isn’t always enough.”

 

“Perhaps not,” Casamir agreed. “But it is more than many have.”

 

He swallowed hard. “I suppose that’s true enough.” There was a long pause, and Spike looked up into Casamir’s dark eyes. “So, when do I get my next question answered?”

 

“I thought you only had one you wanted to ask.”

 

“I changed my mind,” Spike admitted.

 

Casamir scattered a few more wood shavings and blew on the dying coals. Spike watched as the flames flared, and Casamir nodded. “Now.”

 

Spike threw the next slip of paper on the fire.

 

_“What if I had never gone after my soul?”_

 

**Part III: Regret Is All I See**

 

Spike stood in the doorway of the Summers’ residence. “Dawn here?”

 

Buffy wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Why?”

 

“I thought we talked about this.” He felt himself tense, the anger rising. She still refused to listen to him. Spike thought that he’d helped with the nerds; he’d given her the space she asked for—and now she was going to refuse to let him see her sister?

 

“What are you doing here, Spike?” Buffy asked wearily. “If you’re going back to your crypt—”

 

“There’s not anything to go back to, is there?” He was having a hard time keeping a rein on his anger. “Besides, I moved. I’m not at the crypt anymore.”

 

“What?” She stared at him, and Spike thought he saw hurt flash in her eyes. “When were you going to tell me?”

 

“Dawn knew,” Spike replied stolidly. “Thought she’d tell you.”

 

“She didn’t ask,” Dawn said, appearing behind Buffy. “And he’s taking me out for my birthday, Buffy. We’re just going to get something to eat.”

 

The Slayer visibly hesitated. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. The money—”

 

“Told you I could get money,” Spike replied, not bothering to hide his irritation. “So, you letting us go, or not?”

 

When Buffy opened her mouth, Dawn cut her off. “No. I’m going. You can ground me after I get back if you want, but you have no right to keep me from seeing Spike.”

 

Spike knew that wasn’t precisely true; Buffy had every right to protest Dawn’s choice of companions if she chose. Still, he was grateful when she didn’t press the issue. “Fine, but I expect you home by midnight.”

 

“Fine,” Dawn said, stalking out of the house without another word.

 

He waited a moment longer, wanting to see if Buffy would say anything more, or if she would even meet his eyes.

 

She did neither, and so he left in silence.

 

They weren’t more than a block away from the house when Dawn burst out, “God! What the hell is wrong with her?”

 

“Language, Bit.” Spike said it more because he knew that Buffy would have if she’d been there than because he cared. In truth, she was more voicing his own feelings than anything else.

 

“I don’t care,” she replied rebelliously. “I tried to tell her about the eggs, but she wouldn’t even listen to me. It’s like she doesn’t even care why you had them.”

 

“Don’t think she does, Nibblet,” Spike said softly. “I think she was just waiting for a chance to get rid of me.”

 

Dawn frowned. “That’s stupid!”

 

“Not arguing with you over that one.”

 

“Maybe if you got proof that Riley was lying about the demon. I don’t think Buffy seriously buys the idea that you’re an international arms dealer.”

 

“Like I’d have time for that,” he scoffed. “And if I were, I certainly wouldn’t be hanging around Sunnydale and the Slayer’s bratty sister.” Spike winked to soften the words, but he couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

“Hey!” she protested. “I am not a brat.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

There was a pause, then Dawn said with forced cheerfulness, “This is my birthday, and I say we celebrate. Forget about Buffy.”

 

“Right,” Spike agreed, trying to shake off the melancholy that seemed to follow him these days. “Where did you want to go to dinner?”

 

~~~~~

 

Looking back on everything that had happened in the last few months, Spike didn’t know that he would have done anything differently. The favor he’d done had been legit, and if Buffy had taken the time to listen, she would have figured that out. Besides, the money he was supposed to get for the incredibly easy babysitting job would have gone to Buffy.

 

How was he supposed to know that the Initiative would kill mama and papa before the eggs hatched? Granted, without their parents, the baby Suvolte demons were uncontrollable, but that wouldn’t have been an issue if Riley hadn’t killed the adults.

 

Sighing, Spike tipped back the bottle. He’d sobered up long enough to take Dawn out for her birthday—he’d promised, after all. Seeing Buffy had brought it all back, however, and he was about ready to call it quits in Sunnydale. What the hell was he doing here these days anyway?

 

“She’ll never love you, you know.”

 

He glanced up to see Angel standing in the middle of his living room. “Yeah, think I got that, thanks.” Spike paused to wonder how much he’d had to drink, since he was clearly hallucinating. “And I don’t need a figment of my imagination to tell me what I already knew.”

 

“Does this help?” Now Drusilla was watching him, swaying back and forth to music only she could hear. “My poor Spike. No one to care for him.”

 

“Like you can talk,” he shot back, no longer caring that he was talking to people who weren’t there. What the hell did he care, anyway? He was of no use these days. “You’re the one who left me for a bloody Chaos demon, and the fungus demon! That was worse.”

 

“You were the one who stopped loving me first,” Drusilla reminded him. “The Slayer has always floated over you. You taste like ashes.”

 

“Sod off,” Spike muttered. “How do I know that it wasn’t you saying it that put the idea in my head? I tried to kill her for you! I spent months in a fucking chair for you!”

 

The bitterness came spilling out of him, the anger and the hurt that coated his days. Nothing gave him pleasure these days—it all tasted of failure and disappointment.

 

“There’s my bad dog,” Drusilla said with a cruel smile. “Wouldn’t you like to snap her pretty neck? Wouldn’t you like to taste your third Slayer?”

 

Spike sank back into his chair morosely. “No. I love the bint, and it’d bloody well kill the Bit.”

 

“If she were dead, you could move on,” Angel said. “To kill this girl, you have to love her. Didn’t I tell you that?”

 

“Yeah, if I’m going to kill anybody, it’d be _you_ ,” Spike shot back. “You’re the one who taught her that a vampire needs a soul to love. Load of shit is what that is.”

 

Angelus moved around to the back of his chair, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “And wouldn’t it be something to see her dead? If you can’t be with her, if she wouldn’t listen to you, you could make her listen.”

 

“I tried that before. Girl won’t let an idea go once she’s got it in her head.”

 

“Think how easy it would be.” Now the woman kneeling beside his chair was the Slayer he’d killed in New York City, the one he’d taken his duster from. “She’s got a death wish already. You’d be doing her a favor.”

 

Spike realized quite suddenly that he wasn’t nearly drunk enough to be imagining all of this, nor was he dreaming. “I’m not killing her. I don’t do that. I don’t hurt the woman I love.” He rose abruptly. “I don’t know what the hell you are, but you can get out now!”

 

The New York Slayer’s eyes were hard. “You’re going to regret this, vampire. There’s only one winning side in the war to come, and that’s mine.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Spike heard it shriek as it left his apartment, and he felt a chill. Whether he wanted to see her again or not, he needed to talk to Buffy about this.

 

~~~~~

 

It turned out that knowing he was being haunted by the First Evil, and doing something about it, were two completely different things. If he’d hoped that his dilemma would change Buffy’s perception of him at all, he would have been greatly disappointed. If anything, she became warier because the First Evil had gone after Angel, too. Angel had, in fact, tried to kill himself to get away from it.

 

Spike had no intention of killing himself, not even if it would get him back into Buffy’s good graces.

 

But even knowing that the First couldn’t actually touch him, after a few months of its company, Spike was beginning to think that it might annoy him to death. He’d thought it would give up after it figured out that he wasn’t going to kill the Slayer, but it was more stubborn than he was.

 

And Spike had finally had enough.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Buffy was staring at him. “Spike—”

 

“I haven’t slept in two months, Buffy,” Spike continued, as though she hadn’t said anything. “There’s nothing left for me here. Tell me that there is, and maybe I’ll change my mind, but you don’t need me.”

 

She shook her head, a little desperately he thought. “We’ll figure it out,” she promised. “Willow’s working on it.”

 

“You’re dating again.” It was as much an accusation as a statement, and he knew it. They both knew it.

 

Buffy shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not serious.”

 

“I’m not sure that matters.” Their eyes met and held, and Spike asked softly, “What am I to you?”

 

Her head dropped, and in a voice so low even he could barely hear her, Buffy replied, “Someone I thought I could have loved.” Then, even more quietly, she added, “I was wrong.”

 

Spike swallowed hard, feeling as though he’d just been punched in the gut. “Yeah. I get it. Is Dawn around?”

 

“She’s upstairs.” Buffy refused to look at him. “Do you want me to get her?”

 

“Yeah, you better. She’d be pretty brassed off if I left without saying goodbye.”

 

Spike stood in the front hallway, waiting for Dawn and wondering if he was giving up too easily. Maybe this was the wrong way to go about things; maybe he should have fought harder. Maybe the Nibblet had been right, and he should have obtained evidence to support his story and refute the soldier’s.

 

Then again, wasn’t that a capitulation of its own? If Buffy really couldn’t trust him, maybe it was time to leave, the same way he’d left Drusilla—although only after she’d left him.

 

Dawn came hurrying down the stairs, Buffy nowhere in sight. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

 

“I’m leaving.”

 

The expression on her face was a mixture of anger and resignation, and Spike thought that maybe she’d expected this to happen. “When?”

 

“Soon as I get my stuff together. It won’t take long.”

 

Dawn nodded, her chin lifting bravely. “Will you call?”

 

It was one promise he could keep. “As often as I can.”

 

“What if I need you?” Dawn asked. “You said you were going to take care of me.”

 

“Can’t do that if the bloody First drives me barmy.”

 

“I guess not.” She swiped a hand across her nose, and Spike knew that she was trying not to cry. “Be careful, okay?”

 

“You do the same.”

 

He turned to go, and Dawn took three quick steps to throw her arms around him. “I love you.”

 

“Love you, too, Bit.”

 

And Spike left, knowing somehow that it was the last time he’d see either of them.

 

~~~~~

 

“Okay, I need you to sit down.”

 

Buffy really didn’t like the sound of that. “Why, Willow?”

 

“I got some news today, and I thought you should know about it, but I think you should be sitting down. So, are you?”

 

There was something in her friend’s voice that told Buffy she might be right, even half a world away. Spotting a bench, she took a seat in the warm afternoon sun. “Okay, I’m sitting down. What’s up?”

 

“Spike’s alive.” Willow sounded breathless, and Buffy could understand that, especially since she had to be lying. It was a good thing that she was half a world away, because Buffy thought she might have killed her if she’d been there, playing that kind of a prank on her.

 

“That’s not funny, Will. Did Dawn put you up to this? Because—”

 

“I’m not joking!” Willow protested, the hurt in her voice obvious. “I wouldn’t do that. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”

 

She took a deep breath. “What are you saying, then?”

 

“Fred called me earlier,” Willow explained. “We’ve been keeping in touch since I re-ensouled Angel the last time, and she didn’t know your number, so she thought if she told me, then I could tell you, because—”

 

Buffy was quickly losing track of what Willow was trying to say. “Take a deep breath and slow down,” she advised. “Then tell me from the beginning, in shorter sentences.”

 

“Fred called today, because Spike’s on his way there, and she was worried about him showing up and you not being there.”

 

“How?”

 

“It was the amulet,” Willow explained. “Somehow it got sent to Angel, and when he opened the package Spike came out.”

 

“Okay,” Buffy said slowly. “When?”

 

“Awhile ago, but Spike was a ghost, so he couldn’t contact you, and he couldn’t leave Los Angeles because of the amulet. It bound him there somehow.” Willow took another deep breath. “And now he’s solid, and he’s on his way to see you.”

 

Buffy was still stuck on the part where Spike had been back for a while, and no one had told her; she knew that Angel had her contact information, and while Spike might not have been able to pick up the phone, the same couldn’t be said for him. “Why didn’t Angel call me?”

 

“Because he’s stupid?” Willow suggested tentatively. “I don’t know.”

 

It was the best explanation Buffy could think of. “Probably. When does Fred think he’ll get here?”

 

“She didn’t know. He left the other day, but I guess he was kind of beat up, so she didn’t know if he’d left immediately, or not.”

 

Buffy closed her eyes, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. She couldn’t very well stay in her apartment until he showed up on her doorstep, and what if something happened to him between L.A. and Rome? How was he going to travel, and long would it take him?

 

“Call Fred back and give her my number,” Buffy instructed. “Tell her that if she hears anything from Spike to call me. Does he know how to find me?”

 

“I guess so,” Willow said. “I don’t know.”

 

She sighed. “Okay, well…”

 

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine, Buffy. Spike knows how to take care of himself.”

 

“I know he does. It’s just—I’m sure it’s true, but I don’t think I’m going to believe it until I actually see him for myself.”

 

“I know the feeling,” Willow replied. “Call me as soon as you can.”

 

“Sure.” Buffy ended the call and stared off into space. She wanted to believe it was true, but at the same time, she was afraid. She didn’t think she could survive losing him again.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stared at the grain in the table, as though it held the answers he sought. Knowing that if he’d never gone after his soul, Buffy would never have changed her mind allowed him to have no regret about that choice at least. If the answer had been different, if she could have loved him anyway, Spike wasn’t sure he would have viewed the pain as worthwhile.

 

This last question, though—he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

 

“You can still change your mind,” Casamir said softly. “If there is another question you would like to ask.”

 

Spike shook his head. “No. I think that would be worse.”

 

“You can’t know that on this side,” Casamir said.

 

“Maybe.”  He looked down at his clenched fist—not quite ready to let go of the question.

 

“You must let go to step forward.”

 

Now that he could believe. Spike nodded and watched as the man cast a few more shavings on the fire, and the aromatic smoke once more drifted up. He cast the slip of paper on the flames and watched it turn to ash.

 

_“What if I hadn’t died in the Hellmouth?”_

 

**Part IV: Possibilities**

 

“I love you.”

 

“No, you don’t, but thanks for saying it. Now go, Buffy!”

 

This time, she didn’t listen to him—not that she often did anyway. Instead, Buffy reached out and snatched the amulet off of his neck, throwing it at the Turok-Han that were still approaching. “Let’s go.”

 

Spike didn’t have a choice once she grabbed his arm and slung it over her shoulders. With the amulet off, the pain became overwhelming, the burns on his chest excruciating. “No…”

 

“Yes,” Buffy replied stubbornly. “I’m not leaving you down here, and I meant what I said, so just shut up.”

 

He didn’t have much of a choice; Spike was in too much pain to do anything else. She hustled him up, out of the Hellmouth, and through the halls of the school. He didn’t see anything, as his vision was graying out.

 

“Not gonna make it,” he mumbled. “Buffy, get out. Leave me here.”

 

“Forget it,” she said grimly. “I’m not leaving you, so you can just forget it.”

 

Spike didn’t have the energy to fight to stay behind, and he still wanted to live, so he helped her along as best he could.

 

The burn of the sunlight barely registered as Buffy tossed him bodily onto the school bus they’d used to get to the scene of battle. He heard the murmur of voices around him and the squealing of tires, then felt gentler hands maneuver him onto the floor between the seats.

 

“You’ll be safer down here,” Buffy said, in obvious reference to the sun, then he felt the covering of a blanket, and for a time, knew no more.

 

~~~~~

 

When Spike started to gain consciousness, he noticed the pain first, before anything else. “Easy,” Buffy’s voice said as he groaned. “You were burned pretty badly.”

 

He didn’t ask whose fault that was; if she hadn’t pulled the amulet off of his neck, he’d be dead now—at the moment, he wasn’t ready to thank her for saving his life. “How bad?”

 

“It’s not pretty.”

 

Spike managed to open his eyes to see a straw floating in front of his face, and he felt her lifting him so that he could drink. “Where—”

 

“Don’t talk,” she ordered. “Drink. And to answer your question, we’re in a hotel halfway between what’s left of Sunnydale and Los Angeles. There were a few people who needed medical care, so we stopped at the closest hospital.”

 

Spike heard a sucking noise as he hit the bottom of the mug. “How many died?”

 

“Anya,” Buffy said softly. “We lost—I don’t quite know how many Slayers we lost. I think at least half a dozen. Giles has the numbers.”

 

He realized that he could smell blood. “You’re hurt.”

 

“It’s not that bad. You’re worse.”

 

“I’m immortal.”

 

“But not invincible.” Her expression was fondly exasperated. “Don’t argue with me, Spike. How often have I offered to wait on you hand and foot?”

 

“Never,” he replied with a half smile.

 

She nodded. “There you go, and it’s probably never going to happen again, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

 

“You said ‘what’s left of Sunnydale,’” Spike said, suddenly realizing what her words meant. “It’s gone?”

 

“Yeah, whatever that amulet did packed quite a punch. The ground started—I don’t know, dissolving, as soon as we left.”

 

Spike frowned, realizing that something was missing. He hadn’t noticed it before, simply because the pain was too overwhelming, but now his heart sank. “Buffy—the amulet used my soul.”

 

“I know, I felt it,” Buffy replied. “It’s okay, Spike.”

 

“No, it’s bloody well not,” he snapped. “It used it up, Slayer. My soul—it’s not there anymore.”

 

She sat back suddenly, the hand that had been resting on his arm gone. “How can you be sure?”

 

“I think I’d know,” he replied quickly. “It was a part of me, and now it’s not there. It’s gone.”

 

The expression on her face was a mixture of guilt and fear. “It’s going to be okay,” she promised.

 

Spike didn’t know who she was trying to convince—herself or him.

 

~~~~~

 

When they left the hotel, it was after the sun had gone down, and Spike knew that it was in deference to him. He kept to himself on the bus, sitting in the middle—away from the girls who wanted to sit in the back, and those who had chosen the front. He was surprised when Dawn came to sit next to him.

 

“I hear you were hurt pretty bad.”

 

“I’m alright,” Spike replied.

 

“The burns?”

 

“They’ll heal.”

 

“What’s your deal?” Dawn demanded. “You haven’t even talked to Buffy, and she’s avoiding you. Did you do something?”

 

Spike resented the implication, and he raised his shirt to show off his burns. “You think I could hurt her when I’ve got these?”

 

Dawn flushed slightly. “Sorry.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice gentler. “You don’t sound the same.”

 

“That’s because I’m not the same,” Spike said glumly.

 

Dawn frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Nothing. It means nothing.”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“Guess that’s just too bad for you, then.”

 

She stared at him, hard. “You’re different.”

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You don’t have your soul anymore,” Dawn accused, although she kept her voice low.

 

Spike’s jaw tightened. “I said I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Spike—” Her voice took on a pleading note. “I’m sorry.”

 

He sighed. “For what?”

 

“For saying I was going to set you on fire,” Dawn replied. “I didn’t mean it.”

 

A smile touched his lips. “I know you didn’t.”

 

“Was I right?”

 

“It was the amulet. Didn’t exactly ask to lose it.”

 

“So it was Buffy’s fault?”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“No, I did.” Dawn sighed and leaned back against the seat next to him, her shoulder just brushing him. “I didn’t really mean it like that.”

 

He smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Dawn?” Buffy stood in the aisle next to them. “Do you want to sit next to Vi?”

 

Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Not really.”

 

“Dawn.”

 

There was no room for argument in Buffy’s tone, and her sister sighed. “Fine.”

 

Once she’d gone, Buffy slid into the seat next to him. “She knows,” he said.

 

“Did you tell her?”

 

“She guessed.”

 

“Crap.” Buffy gave him a rueful look. “I tend to forget how smart she really is.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“I know.” She rested her head against the seat, not looking at him. “I need to know what you’re going to do.”

 

He glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye. “That would depend on you, I guess.”

 

“It’s just—if anyone finds out that the soul is gone, with the chip gone—”

 

“I guess you should have repaired it,” Spike muttered.

 

“No, I don’t believe that,” Buffy hissed, keeping her voice down. Her hand found his. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

 

Spike looked out the window, seeing only Buffy’s reflection against the darkness. “I need to know what happened to it.” He didn’t specify what he wanted to know—his soul might be gone, and with it the guilt, but it had still been a part of him. His demon had sought it out, and so the battle between them hadn’t been as fiercely fought as with Angel.

 

He wasn’t sure he’d willingly go after it again, but he needed to know if it still existed.

 

“We’ll find out,” Buffy promised.

 

It was all he could ask for.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike didn’t know if anyone else noticed the change, other than Dawn. He’d been in Cleveland with Buffy for three weeks now, while they regrouped and tried to keep a lid on the active Hellmouth. He knew that she was tired; hell, he was downright exhausted. Getting his soul sucked out with that amulet had really taken it out of him.

 

So far, there was no clear indication where his soul might have gone, and whether it had merely gone to where it had been before, or if it had been destroyed completely. There was also no indication that Buffy meant her words now.

 

And wasn’t that a kick in the pants? Buffy loved him enough to save him, and risk the world, only to find out that she hadn’t actually saved the man she loved. That his feelings hadn’t changed went without saying.

 

After three weeks of living in limbo, waiting for Buffy to make a move one way or another, to decide one way or another, Spike couldn’t deal with it anymore. The soul hadn’t changed his feelings for Buffy, but it had given him the patience to wait her out.

 

Patience was what he no longer had.

 

“What are you doing?” Buffy asked when she saw him standing in the doorway of her bedroom, bag in hand. They’d kept separate rooms after coming to Cleveland, and while Spike would have waited for the physical, he didn’t feel like she even had the trust in him that she’d once had.

 

There was a small part of him that hated her for it, that hated her for the empty place inside, even though the guilt was gone.

 

“I’m leaving,” he said simply. “You don’t need me anymore.”

 

She shot to her feet, marching over to him and yanking him inside, shutting the door behind him. “What are you talking about? Of course I need you!”

 

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. You haven’t talked to me in three weeks, Buffy. Not really. I’m tired of waiting. I’m not cut out for this Champion shit. You know that.”

 

Her eyes went wide. “You nearly died, Spike. How can you say that? You _are_ a Champion.”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “And that explains why you’ve been avoiding me.”

 

Buffy’s face went red. “I—I thought you might hate me now.”

 

That had been the last response he’d expected. “Huh?”

 

“I thought you would hate me,” she repeated, staring stubbornly at the floor. “It’s my fault that you lost your soul. I’ve tried everything, Spike. I talked to Willow about it—”

 

“She knows?” he interrupted.

 

“She swore she wouldn’t tell anybody,” Buffy assured him. “That’s not the point. The point is that she said there’s no way to know for sure. I mean, she could try to curse you, but she doesn’t know what it would do if it worked, because it’s a curse, and it might just hurt you more, and that—”

 

Spike was beginning to understand. “You don’t want her to curse me?”

 

“No! Of course not.”

 

“But I don’t have a soul.”

 

“Well, it’s not like you’re going around eating people,” Buffy replied in a low voice, sounding almost sullen.

 

Spike blinked. “I don’t have the chip either.”

 

She made a sound that spoke of nothing more than supreme frustration. “You went to get your soul for me! Because I was stupid and wouldn’t listen to you, and you almost died, and it was my fault, and—”

 

He stopped her from saying anything more the only way he could think of—with a kiss. Buffy seemed to melt into his arms, clinging to him in a way he’d never experienced before. She was hanging onto him as though she’d never let him go.

 

“I love you,” he whispered when he finally broke it off to let her breathe. “Couldn’t hate you, even if I tried.”

 

“And you’ve tried?”

 

“Thought you had said what you did, and then…”

 

“Then I didn’t mean it because you didn’t have a soul?” Buffy asked ruefully. “I just—I couldn’t figure out how to explain it to you.” Her head resting on his shoulder, she admitted. “I’m kind of glad you’re packed up, though.”

 

He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that, but given her enthusiastic response to his kiss, he had hope that she meant it in a different way than he feared. “Oh?”

 

“I want you to stay here.”

 

“As in your bedroom?”

 

“As in my bed.” She pulled back to look him in the eye. “I love you.”

 

“Even without a soul?”

 

“With or without.” Her hand cupped his cheek. “You’d do anything for me.”

 

He smiled, feeling a pang of sadness, wishing it hadn’t taken her this long to figure that out. “Damn right, I would.”

 

Buffy drew him towards the bed. “Then let me prove the same thing to you.”

 

Spike realized that she didn’t know that she already had.

 

~~~~~

 

“Where is he?” Buffy muttered, pacing back and forth across her living room. “He should have been here by now.”

 

Dawn made a face. “Would you sit? You’re making me seasick. And this is Spike we’re talking about. He might have gotten lost for all we know.”

 

“What if he changes his mind?” Buffy demanded. “What if he decides not to come?”

 

Her sister turned so that she was sitting sideways in the chair, her long legs hanging over one side. “Again I say—this is Spike. Why wouldn’t he come?”

 

“Because I don’t know if he believed me. He said he didn’t, but he could have been saying that to get me to leave. I know he’d do something stupid like that.”

 

Dawn held up a hand. “Okay, let’s think about this logically. If Spike didn’t believe you, and he decides not to come, then we call Fred or Willow or both of them, and we find him. Once we’ve found him, you can go drag his ass back to Rome and then live happily ever after.” At Buffy’s look, she added, “Well, you can try.”

 

“Why me?” Buffy asked softly, finally sitting down on the couch.

 

Dawn frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“I treated him like crap, Dawn. I broke up with him, and I was a—a—”

 

“A bitch?”

 

Buffy glared at her. “I wasn’t very nice,” she allowed. “And he got his soul for me, and now he’s back, and we—I—have a second chance. Not everybody gets one of those.”

 

Dawn took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It kind of makes sense to me.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You both died to save the world, Buffy,” her sister reminded her. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of rewarding you for that. Assuming that you don’t screw it all up again, of course.”

 

“Very funny.”

 

“Just keeping it real.” Dawn rose. “I’m meeting some friends soon. Give me a call when he gets in? Unless you’re too busy doing the horizontal tango, in which case, hang a sock on the door or something, okay?”

 

Buffy shook her head, letting out a chuckle that sounded only slightly annoyed. “Go, and be careful.” She watched her sister go and wondered if Dawn could possibly be right.

 

If so, that still begged the question of where her reward might be, because Spike should have arrived by now, assuming he’d left when Fred thought he had.

 

~~~~~

 

“An interesting choice of question,” Casamir remarked when Spike held his silence.

 

Spike didn’t respond right away, his head still full of what he had seen. Buffy had loved him—with or without a soul. “I had to know,” he finally said simply.

 

“Understandable.” His head cocked to one side, he asked, “What will you do now?”

 

“I don’t know.” Spike shook his head to clear it. “What will happen if I stay here?”

 

Casamir smiled gently. “I cannot tell you that. The smoke is what give the visions.”

 

“You know something, though.”

 

“I know that there is a coming storm, from which you may or may not emerge unscathed—or at least alive, so to speak.” The man leaned back in his chair. “I also know much about lost opportunities. What you have now is something not many have been given.”

 

“What do you mean?” Spike asked.

 

Casamir raised an eyebrow. “My son, have you still not understood, even after all you have seen?”

 

Spike couldn’t seem to look away from the dark eyes that threatened to swallow him up. “I don’t—”

 

“You are a gambler, yes?” Casamir continued, as though Spike had said nothing. “Love is always a gamble. You risk everything on the slim chance that the other person will love you in return, knowing that you might be disappointed.”

 

Spike frowned, stung. “She loved me, though.”

 

“Indeed, she did, likely better than even she knew.” Casamir sighed. “William, we always hurt the ones we love. Did you not say the same thing once?”

 

He blinked rapidly, remembering the look on Buffy’s face when she’d broken things off with him, the expression she’d worn when he’d returned. “But, without the soul…”

 

“Without the soul, she never would have understood how much you’d truly changed,” Casamir acknowledged, “but once she knew, her love could grow unhindered by fear.”

 

“Then was my death worth nothing?” Spike asked, knowing that it was a rhetorical question.

 

Casamir shook his head. “A sacrifice such as yours is worth everything.” He rose from the table, and when Spike looked up, his eyes seemed dazzled. Casamir had changed, become—different. “Do you still not understand? ‘No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his friends.’ Such a love will always be rewarded.”

 

And with those words echoing in his ears, Spike found himself suddenly standing outside the store, with no idea of how he’d come to be there. When he turned, the storefront was boarded up, without any signs of life, and he shook his head.

 

“Bloody hell,” he murmured, almost reverently. “That was something else.” He looked up at the sky and suddenly laughed. “Fine!” Spike yelled, not caring that he probably looked like a crazy person. “I got your message!”

 

Straightening his shoulders, Spike began walking. He had to see a girl.

 

**Part V: Reunions**

 

Buffy wasn’t in the mood to waste time with pleasantries. As soon as she heard Angel’s voice, she demanded, “Where is he, Angel?”

 

“Buffy?” he asked, clearly surprised to hear from her. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing is wrong,” she replied, reining in her temper with some difficulty. “At least, there won’t be as soon as you tell me where Spike is.”

 

Buffy had no idea what kind of a reaction to expect; she knew that the two weren’t on the best of terms, and Angel was bound to be a little hurt by the idea that her cookies were done baking—and he wasn’t getting any. Still, she’d waited as long as she’d been able, and now she was ready to turn the world upside down to find Spike, starting with the offices at Wolfram & Hart.

 

She’d waited too long before his death; Buffy wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.

 

His sigh spoke volumes. “I don’t know where he is.”

 

“What did you do with him?”

 

“I didn’t do anything with him!” Angel’s voice was rising. “Buffy, look, we had a fight a few days ago, and he took off, saying that he was going to find you. I haven’t seen him since.”

 

She had to admit that sounded like something Spike would do. “He’s not here yet. Did you tell him where I was?”

 

“He knows you’re in Europe,” Angel admitted. “And I think I may have mentioned Italy.”

 

Buffy scowled, even though she knew that Angel couldn’t see her. If Spike had gotten lost because Angel refused to share information, she really was going to kick his ass. “Okay, you know what? If he shows up again, I want you to get him here, Angel.”

 

“But—”

 

“I mean it. Do whatever you have to do, but I want him in Rome, at my doorstep within 24 hours of you seeing him.”

 

“What makes you think he’s going to come back?” Angel demanded. “We aren’t on friendly terms.”

 

“I don’t know that he will, but if he does, you can pass along my message.”

 

Angel didn’t sound terribly happy when he said, “I don’t understand. This is Spike we’re talking about.”

 

The last time they’d had this conversation, Buffy had dodged the obvious question, not wanting to hurt his feelings. This time, she knew she had to tell him the whole truth. “I love him,” she said simply.

 

There was a long pause, and Buffy knew that her words had stunned him. “You can’t.”

 

“Do _not_ tell me what I can and can’t do.” Her anger rose, hot and quick. Some of it was worry for Spike, concern for what she would say when he finally showed up—how she was to convince him that she’d meant what she said in the Hellmouth. “I’m in love with him, Angel. It’s done.”

 

“You just said he was in your heart.”

 

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Buffy snapped. “So, are you going to do it, or not? Because I will come to Los Angeles, kick your ass, and find Spike.”

 

“Is this going to make you happy?”

 

“If Spike gets here in one piece, yes.”

 

“Then I’ll make sure of it,” he promised.

 

Buffy knew she had to trust that he would do as he said. The truth was that she couldn’t risk going out of town just now, since Spike might arrive while she was gone. She wasn’t going to miss him.

 

~~~~~

 

Unfortunately, finding a way to get to Europe was going to be more than a little difficult. Spike didn’t have any money, for one thing, so flying on a commercial airline was out of the question, but taking a freighter was going to take too long.

 

Plus, he’d realized that he had no idea where in Europe Buffy was, and he needed more information than that to find her. His choices were few; he could find Giles and ask him. It would be easier to find the Watcher, but the option was not attractive, not with how things had gone between them in Sunnydale. Spike was not entirely sure that Giles would be willing to give him the information.

 

That left the alternative—go back to the law firm and either convince Angel to give it to him willingly, or steal it.

 

Or possibly have someone else get it for him.

 

“Spike!” Fred exclaimed when he entered the lab. “I thought you were gone.”

 

“I was for a bit,” he replied cryptically. “I need to find Buffy.”

 

She blinked, then frowned slightly. “Have you asked Angel?” At his raised brow, she let out a small laugh. “Okay, stupid question. Do you want me to ask him?”

 

“I’d prefer not to announce that I’m off to find Buffy.”

 

Fred’s expression was rueful. “I think everyone knows that already, Spike.”

 

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Look, I just need an address and a way to get there.”

 

“Spike.”

 

He stiffened when he heard Angel’s voice. “Look, Peaches, I just want Buffy’s address. Give me that, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

 

“I can’t do that,” Angel rumbled, grabbing him by the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

 

Spike tore himself away. “What the hell is your problem? If you still love her, why don’t you get your damn soul anchored and go to her?”

 

“Because she’s not in love with me, she’s in love with you,” Angel replied sourly. “And she made me swear I’d get you to Rome.”

 

Spike stopped dead in his tracks. “She what?”

 

“She told me that she loved you, and she made me swear that I’d get you there.” Angel grabbed his arm this time. “So, let’s go.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I’m going to call for the jet to get you to Rome. The windows are necromanced, so you won’t have to worry about the sun.”

 

Spike jerked his arm out of Angel’s grasp, suddenly suspicious. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“Besides the fact that I promised?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Angel sighed. “She said it would make her happy.” He glowered. “Which means that if you _don’t_ make her happy—”

 

“I get it,” Spike said, cutting him off. “You’ll stake me.”

 

“No, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born,” Angel said in a low voice that made Spike believe he meant every word. “ _Then_ I’ll stake you.”

 

Spike met the eyes of the vampire who had been instrumental in making him into what he had been. “I love her,” he said simply.

 

Angel sighed. “I know you do.”

 

That was all Angel was ever going to say about it—and Spike was just fine with that.

 

~~~~~

 

He had at least done her the courtesy of calling to tell her that he’d sent Spike on his way. Buffy felt a little warmer towards Angel after that, even though he hadn’t let her know that Spike was back right away. Granted, Spike had been a ghost, but he’d been around, and she could have stopped grieving and started working on a way to get him solid again.

 

All Buffy could think about—all she’d been able to think about in the months since his death—was wasted time. There had been entirely too much of it.

 

Now, however, she was left to pace her living room, waiting for his arrival. Dawn had given up on asking her to sit down and had declared that she was going somewhere else to study. Buffy felt bad about it, but she couldn’t rest easy until he was there.

 

The knock on the door startled her, and Buffy hesitated, straightening her shirt before going over to look out the peephole. Spike stood there, and she could see the top of his head; his hands were shoved in his pockets, and his head was bowed.

 

Hesitating for just an instant, Buffy pulled the door open, looking directly into Spike’s eyes. “Hi.”

 

It was probably the lamest greeting in the history of the universe, but it was the only thing that came to mind.

 

A smile touched Spike’s lips. “H’lo.”

 

“Come in,” she said, hurriedly stepping out of the way. “Angel called to say you were coming.”

 

“Did he now? I heard you called him.” Spike followed her inside but remained standing.

 

Buffy nodded. “Fred told Willow that you were alive and solid again, and Willow told me.”

 

“And you called Angel?”

 

“When you didn’t come right away, I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten lost or something. I thought that if I called him, I could make sure you got here faster.”

 

“That’s the only reason you called him?”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “I told Angel that I was in love with you, and I threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t get you here. If there’s something else I should have told him, or that you think I should have done—”

 

“No.” He cut her off. “Sorry. It’s just—”

 

“It’s Angel.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you want to sit down?” Buffy took a seat on the couch, waiting for him to join her. When he did so, he kept a good distance between them. “I know you didn’t call right away because you were a ghost.”

 

“Wasn’t much fun,” Spike acknowledged.

 

“How did you get to be solid again?”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t rightly know. One minute I was a ghost, and the next moment, I’d opened a package and was solid again.”

 

“I guess we can be thankful that somebody sent you a present.”

 

“Guess so.”

 

Buffy suddenly rose. “I wanted you to know that I meant it. Even if you didn’t believe me then, you have to believe me now.”

 

“I believe you.”

 

He said it simply, and with such sincerity that Buffy couldn’t help but pause. “Then did you say what you did to get me to leave? Or did you not believe me then?”

 

Spike sighed. “Bit of both, I suppose. Wasn’t sure I could believe you, that close to the end. I knew I was gonna die, and I wasn’t about to take you with me.”

 

She sensed that there was more that he wasn’t telling her. “Why did you come?”

 

“You remember that guy you saw in Sunnydale? The one who answered your questions?”

 

Buffy frowned. “Of course.” Her third question hadn’t been far from her mind since Spike’s death—she would have done better to remember how good it could have been when they had been dating. She sat back down again.

 

“Ran into him in L.A.,” Spike began, then proceeded to tell her about the questions he’d asked, and the answers he’d received.

 

Buffy frowned. “You didn’t ask what would happen if you came here.”

 

“No, I didn’t.” Spike sighed. “I thought I’d get the answer I needed if I asked what would have happened if I hadn’t died.”

 

“Because you’d know whether or not I was being honest,” she said flatly.

 

He nodded. “Yeah, in short.” Spike hesitated. “There’s more, though.”

 

“Why am I not surprised?”

 

He looked wry. “Because there’s always more?”

 

“What was it?”

 

“There at the end, Casamir looked different. Said I was supposed to be rewarded, that my sacrifice was worth something.”

 

“It was worth something,” Buffy insisted. “You saved all of us.”

 

“And if I hadn’t died, it would have been alright.”

 

“But you would have lost your soul, and you said yourself it felt like you were missing something.”

 

He blinked. “Yeah, well…”

 

“I love you,” Buffy said quietly. “I’ve loved you for a long time now, and I should have said something.  I should have told you before.”

 

Spike swallowed, and she could see his Adam’s apple bob. “It’s alright, luv.”

 

“No, it’s not. I wasted so much time—”

 

His hands framed her face, stopping her from continuing. “There’s no wasted time. We’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Spike paused. “At least, I’m assuming it’s a ‘we.’”

 

Buffy couldn’t think of the words to use, so she took action. She was much better at that anyway. Her lips found his, and it was as though the months separating them just melted away. Nothing mattered except him, and the feeling of his skin on hers, his lips on hers. The only thing that interrupted was the thought that she really didn’t want Dawn to walk in on them.

 

“Bedroom,” she whispered.

 

“Where’s the Bit?” he asked.

 

“Out.”

 

“Bedroom, definitely.”

 

Buffy didn’t plan on them coming out for a long time.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike lay on the bed, Buffy’s hair spread over his bare chest. He hadn’t been able to stop touching her; even when she’d risen to use the bathroom, knowing she was going to return any moment, he’d nearly followed.

 

Although he’d heard Dawn come in, he wasn’t about to get up before he had to. “You’ve got to be hungry.”

 

“I could say the same for you,” Buffy replied. “I went out and got some blood as soon as I knew you were coming.”

 

He gave her a squeeze. “Guess we’d both better eat.”

 

“Guess so.”

 

Neither of them moved, and Spike sighed. “What next, Buffy?”

 

“Will you stay?”

 

“Yeah, long as you want me to.”

 

“How does forever sound?”

 

“Pretty good.” He twisted his head to catch a glimpse of her face. “Don’t have much.”

 

Buffy pushed herself into a sitting position, but her hand on his chest prevented from rising with her. “I need you. That’s all.”

 

Spike felt the last bit of tension leave his body. He could see the truth in her eyes, and he knew that while a relationship between a Slayer and a vampire was never going to be easy, that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t be good.

 

He smiled. “Guess that works out well for both of us then.”

 

Spike tugged her back down; he was more interested in satisfying a different sort of hunger at the moment, and for the first time in a long time, he thought that Casamir might have been right.

 

His sacrifice hadn’t been empty, and he had all the reward he needed.


End file.
